


Lightning

by floatsodelicately



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Mate Hermione, POV Draco Malfoy, Veela, Veela Draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 15:37:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2586761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatsodelicately/pseuds/floatsodelicately
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Black family has been cursed, every male born of Black blood is born a veela and is doomed to die without their mate. Draco has to deal with his veela side, his Death Eater father, his Slytherin front and his muggleborn mate, Hermione Granger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_"She's staring me down with those electric eyes,_

_No matter how hard I try,_

_I can't escape that gaze tonight,_

_That girl's up in the atmosphere…"_

_Lightning – Alex Goot_

* * *

The Black family was cursed. Because of one man's hubris, their entire family line was cursed to live with the fact that any male born to them would be born a veela. This man was Ophiuchus Black. Ophiuchus wasn't the kind of man that could be tied down. He prided himself on the fact that although he was desired by many, for his looks, his wealth and his status, no one could claim him. He refused to marry, something that vexed his parents greatly as he turned down every proposal sent his way.

He wined, dined and charmed his way into women's hearts, dreams and bedrooms everywhere he travelled. In Hogwarts, his fellow students had been annoyed and then indebted to him as the trail of heartbroken girls sought out comfort in the arms of those around them – and there was never a shortage of 'shoulders to cry on' for these poor distraught girls.

Ophiuchus found himself in a small wizarding village in the south of France, close to the Pyrenees, where he met Juliette. Juliette Leblanc had straight white-blonde hair to his jet black curls; she had a soft, delicate appearance to his sharp, aristocratic features, but she was quick-witted enough to keep up with him, intelligent enough to challenge him and beautiful enough to keep his attention. He had been in Luc's Cachette for almost two months when she told him what she wanted from him.

Juliette was a veela. A full-blooded veela from a long line of powerful veela witches, and he was her mate. She had searched for so long, fearing that she would never find the one for her, when he arrived just two months before her 18th birthday. Surely that must have been a sign. Her mother and grandmother had found their mates around this time as well.

One afternoon, she had dropped her glove when walking in the garden, the smallest touch of his hand on hers when he retrieved it for her was enough. The call came. Just being around him made her feel alive and energised. She would catch herself gazing at him, snapping her attention back to her reading or needlework when her mother coughed pointedly at her. It wasn't proper for young ladies to ogle and daydream over young men, even veela were expected to maintain decorum when in company. His grey-silver eyes seemed to entrance her whenever he stepped into the room. Then came the pull to always be closer to him, to make sure that he was ok, to see him happy…the pull got worse over a short amount of time. Her grandmother had said that the pull took years to develop with her grandfather; her mother said that her bond with her father had taken months to develop, but Ophiuchus was a flirt and a rake, the pull intensified with each lingering touch or kiss or, _heaven forbid_ , tryst in his chambers. Those hurt the most. The pangs that they caused spurred her to take action.

She was more forward. The subtle glances were gone, replaced with flirtatious looks. Her voice became more sultry, her tone inviting more male attention than before – something that would have been deemed impossible from the amount of suitors that had approached her father. She would move closer to him, sit by him, go for walks with him and talk extensively to no other man but him. She didn't want to use any of her veela magic to woo him, feeling that it would be the equivalent of her dosing him with a love potion and make their connection forced and untrue. Eventually, the day came when she had the attention that she wanted from her mate.

He would dazzle her with a flawless smile, escort her around the gardens like a perfect gentleman, he would look at her with those beautiful eyes and once the night came, he would sneak to her window and charm her with words of love and promise. She had found her _one_ , and she had caught him.

But then that horrible morning came; the morning that he told her that he was leaving for England. She begged and pleaded with him to stay. He had smiled at her with the smile that she had seen him use with children and house elves. She had seen him look at the women that left his room in the same way. He refused to listen to her reasons. _My bags are packed_ , he said. _I wasn't going to stay here forever_ , he told her.

So she called to his body with hers. The veela in her purring with satisfaction as her magic was unleashed and pushed towards her mate. But he resisted her. He laughed at her. Pulled a vial out of his trouser pocket and waved it slightly, with that same smile on his face. _Immunity_ , he said. _She couldn't claim him with her magic_ , he told her.

Her veela had stopped purring. _He had refused her_. She growled out loud. She leapt for her wand and ignored his attempts to calm her down. She bound him to the chair at her vanity table, uncaring of the rope burns that she had caused him or the panicked ramblings that he tried to shout out from behind that gag that she had fixed on him. _He had refused her_. Juliette silenced the room and calmly walked over to her bookshelf, she reached to her top shelf and pulled out a small tome, the gift given to every daughter of the Leblanc family when they came into their inheritance. She flipped through the pages of the diary that detailed the magic and beauty of a veela finding her mate and the life that the two would live. _He had refused her_. She would never have this. She would die, alone and unhappy and only in a few months.

He stopped struggling and looked on in horror as Juliette smiled at the book and then him. Her once beautiful smile was twisted with malice, her bright eyes appeared demented as she looked at him hungrily, twisting her wand in her hand.

He didn't hear the words. He didn't hear anything.

He only felt the pain of the curse hitting him in the chest; the feeling of something burrowing through his skin and into his heart. It became a sharp pain that then seemed to spread through his body before he slumped down in the chair, unconscious.

She moved forward and stroked his cheek as his head lolled forward. She cancelled the silencing spell on the room and unlocked the door. Her face was stony as she summoned his trunk with a wave of her wand.

With an _Ennervate_ , he was awake again.

 _What did you do to me_ , he asked.

 _A small adjustment_ , she told him. _Leave now, and know that your descendants will feel the pain that I feel_ , she said.

And they did.

Ophiuchus went home to England. Unsure of what Juliette's curse had done to him, he changed. He accepted his father's offer to teach him how to run the family accounts. At the events that he attended with his family, his attention never strayed to women that he did not dance with, and they _only_ danced. His somewhat loutish behaviour was never repeated, he could no longer be found stumbling through Knockturn Alley in the middle of the night with a woman on each arm.

He agreed to his mother's proposal that he marry. A year after the incident in France, he married Celia Borgin. A woman a few years younger than him, fresh out of Hogwarts, with piercing blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair. A year after that, Altair Black was born. Altair had his father's eyes and hair, with skin far more fair than either of his parents. His parents cooed over their first grandchild, pleased that this beautiful child _was_ definitely their first – no surprises had popped up on the tapestry as had been feared in the years before - but Juliette's ominous words about his descendants flashed through his mind whenever someone would gush about the child's beauty. _Feel the pain that I feel_ , she had said. What did that mean? What was this ' _small adjustment_ '?

Ophiuchus and Celia had two more children, identical twin girls, Mira and Lacerta. The three children had a happy childhood. Altair went to Hogwarts and landed in Slytherin, just like his father. He charmed the teachers, just like his father. Ophiuchus was worried to find out from the twins when they came home from their first year at the school – both of them being sorted into Ravenclaw – that Altair was quite the ladies' man, just like his father.

_Feel the pain that I feel._

Ophiuchus ripped through the books on magical creatures that he found in the family library. The signs were there. Altair was beautiful as a child and even more so now that he had grown up. He was 15 now, according to his research, he would be coming into his inheritance soon, if he hadn't yet. He whisked his son away to St Mungo's the next day and demanded that the healers run any tests possible.

The results were positive, Altair was a veela. Confused, he asked the healers to test him and Celia, unsure of how this had happened; the Black family were insanely proud of their lineage and there had been no polluting of their bloodline with magical creatures such as veela's.

Celia's tests had come back negative, there was no trace of veela magic in her.

 _His_ results were another story. Juliette's curse had mutated something in him. This is what she had done. The healer said that the _Black Heart_ curse had been cast on him. Any male child born of him and his descendants would be a veela. There was no cure, no preventative measures other than to stop having children, which wouldn't do.

Altair didn't find his mate at Hogwarts. When he graduated, he travelled around England, then more of Britain, then he tried around the continent. He finally found her when she was about to leave an inn in Switzerland. He felt the pull when he handed her the scarf that she had dropped. Not wanting to lose her, he pushed his magic out to her, his pheromones calling to her and she didn't leave. He asked her to stay for a cup of hot chocolate, she stayed for three. She agreed to meet him the next day before she left to meet her father back at their home. She didn't come back to the inn. When he asked after her, the old man in charge of the inn said that there had been a terrible fire in the village and she had died along with her family.

He returned home with a horrible pain in his chest. No healer could fix the pain in his heart.

_Feel the pain that I feel._

Altair died three months later, of a broken heart.

Lacerta went on to marry and have two children, when Ophiuchus ordered the tests on the newborn boy, his fears were confirmed once more. Veela. He died at sixteen, a few months after his best friend, his mate that he had found at a young age and refused to be parted from, was diagnosed with dragonpox and passed away one night.

Mira had three children. The eldest boy, Corvus found his mate at Hogwarts. When he revealed his true nature to her, she had accepted him, but when her father found out and had given her the same potion that his grandfather had used to make him immune, she changed her tune. He had been calling to her with his magic, unbeknownst to him, and without that pull, she was disgusted by his hidden nature. Her rejection of him killed him three months later. His younger brother, Caelum, was the lucky one. He met his mate in his fourth year of Hogwarts. Her father agreed to their betrothal in their final year and they married one week after graduation. He was the first Black veela to find and claim his mate and Ophiuchus finally got to see the life that the other four boys should have lead. Caelum was blissfully happy, doting on his wife and their four children. This is what Juliette should have had. He found that he couldn't blame her for her anger at his refusal of her.

So the Black family line had been cursed. And what a curse it was. Other families would smile sadly when another boy was born, aware that the family had bad luck with boys, not knowing the reason behind the unusual deaths. The secret was kept quiet, only being told to those of Black blood. Spouses were not told before or after the marriage unless it was to the veela himself.

The Black children would be told when it was deemed necessary. The boys were told when they reached their inheritance; when their uncommon beauty seemed to intensify, when they felt the pull to seek out their mate, after an accidental burst of veela magic. The girls were told when their brothers had either claimed their mate or were on their deathbeds, or when they were expecting their first son.

Narcissa was sceptical of her father's story. She remembered that her cousin Sirius was popular with the girls when at Hogwarts, but he hadn't settled down yet, and from what little she had gathered last time she had seen him, he didn't look like he was about to. Regulus would have been a veela if the story was true, but no one had seen him in months, so she couldn't ask him. Asking Sirius was definitely out of the question after the family had cut ties with him. She had heard that Andromeda had had a daughter, so asking her would be of no use.

It wasn't until Draco was born, with striking eyes like molten silver and platinum blonde hair just like his father, fair skin that seemed uncommonly beautiful, that she thought that there may be something to Cygnus' story. He ordered the healer to test Draco as soon as Lucius had left the room and it was confirmed. Her little boy was a veela.

Lucius would never accept this, both Narcissa and Cygnus knew it. By this point, the Black family had found their stride with their veela sons and had more success with their boys claiming their mates. Cygnus himself had married his mate, Druella, after they had graduated from Hogwarts, his brother Alphard had found his mate when travelling through Scotland and claimed her, unfortunately she was a muggle and his mother had pitched a fit and blasted him from the family tapestry, saying that he was no longer a Black. Narcissa knew that Lucius would be furious, his views on blood purity were well known but the betrothal had been made when both of them were still young and his views had been shaped by his Death Eater father, Abraxas, and he had followed proudly in his father's footsteps.

They had no choice but to keep Draco's nature to themselves, Lucius had become violent and cruel as he had been inducted into the Dark Lord's inner circle of Death Eaters. Lucius had never been a nice man, but he had been a fine man. Now he was a danger to his own family. He could never know.


	2. First Year

Draco followed his mother through Diagon Alley to Gringott's to pick up some money from their vault to buy his supplies for the new school year. His mother had insisted that they go shopping well before the letters were sent out in order to avoid the rush; his father was one of the school's governor's, so they already knew what books he would be needing for his first year at Hogwarts.

He always hated going to the Malfoy vault, it was so far down under the bank that it took ten minutes in that tiny cart to reach it and they were never there for long enough for him to get over his first bout of motion sickness before he was told to get back into the cart and taken for another ride. Narcissa wanted the trip to go smoothly and so she agreed that he would stay on the steps at the front of the bank while she went down to the vault to collect the money.

So Draco found himself sat halfway up the stairs of the goblin bank. It was still reasonably early, so it was unlikely that anyone would see him sitting on the stone ground, something that his father would view as undignified and no doubt, disgraceful. It was 9:13am, according to his watch, and the Alley was quiet since the shops had only just opened. He closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sky, soaking in the warmth of the sun, when a shadow appeared over him.

"Excuse me?" the shadow called for his attention.

He opened his eyes and he saw a girl standing a few steps down from him, blocking the sun from him and peering intently at him.

"Yes?"

"I was just wondering if the bank was open?" she asked. "Only, there isn't a sign anywhere so…" she trailed off, looking at him hopefully.

His eyes had adjusted fully by this point, so she was no longer just a shadow. She looked to be around his age, so probably a first year too, she had bushy brown hair that had a slight curliness to it and cinnamon brown eyes that he gazed into, for slightly too long, if he thought about it. He noticed that he hadn't responded when she started to fidget awkwardly and coughed lightly.

"Uhm, yes, it's open," he told her.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly and her lips drew forward in a confused pout, "So why are you sitting out here?"

He stood up and brushed off his cloak and avoided looking at her for a few seconds so that she wouldn't see the pink tint of his cheeks. "My mother said to wait out here. I-it makes me feel unwell," he said. "The trip to the vault," he clarified when her pout didn't disappear.

"Oh, but doesn't that only take a minute?"

"Your vault must be one of the newer ones, it takes ten minutes to get to ours."

"Ten minutes! I'm not surprised then, it doesn't take me too long to reach mine and I still feel a bit funny when I get off it. It's like a rollercoaster and I've never been good at those things," she said in a rush before stopping abruptly. "Sorry, I tend to ramble on a bit," she blushed.

"No, no. It's fine," he smiled.

She smiled back, "Do you go to Hogwarts?"

"I will do," he answered. "I'm starting this year."

She jumped on the spot a couple of times, making him smile at her again, "Oh I am too! We might have classes together!"

"How do you know what you need to find?" he asked, he only knew because of his father's place on the board of governors. "An older sibling…?" he ventured.

She shook her head, "No, no. I'm an only child. I wrote to Professor McGonagall and asked for my list a while ago, my birthday is in September so I've had almost a full year to wait!"

He couldn't explain why he was so interested in this girl, he knew that with other girls, other people in general, he wouldn't have found himself in this conversation. With his parents' friend's children, he was polite and friendly to a point, but he never went out of his way to be nice as he felt himself doing now. And he had never _ever_ blushed in conversation with those other girls.

"What house do you think you'll be in?" he asked.

"House?" she asked, the confused pout back with a head tilt to go with it.

"Y-yes. The school houses…Slytherin, Ravenclaw…" he trailed off.

"Oh, I don't know about any of that. I'm muggleborn-"

Muggleborn. He had to get away. Before his mother came back. The girl was muggleborn. What if father found out about him talking to a muggleborn girl, or even worse, being _nice_ to a muggleborn girl. It would be bad, that was all he knew.

How didn't he see it before? She wasn't dressed anything like the pureblooded girls that he knew. They all wore dresses that made them look like the china dolls that he remembered his mother showing him once when they visited his grandparent's house; all frills and ruffles. This girl was wearing denim trousers and a loose coral jumper over a vest. No pureblood children were allowed out of the house without robes or a cloak, he hadn't noticed that she wasn't wearing one before. Not to mention the fact that she spoke to strangers and seemed genuinely cheerful for no reason.

She was still talking to him, not seeing his panicked face as she moved up a couple of steps and around him. "So I'll see you on the train?"

"Uhuh," he answered her, his eyes wide and ears not-quite-listening as he worried about the repercussions of this interaction. He didn't want her to go but he didn't want her to stay. He wanted her close but he didn't know why. He knew that any further interaction with her would mean bad things for him if his father found out. With a wave, she left, slipping through the large doors of the bank as his mother appeared from the other exit. He didn't notice that he had waved back until his mother appeared by his side.

"Who are you waving to?" she asked.

He jumped as he realised that his mother was standing beside him, taking in his raised hand and dazed expression with amusement as well as some suspicion. "No one!" he yelped before quietening down quickly. "I wasn't waving at anyone."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow at him and walked down the steps. He followed her to Flourish and Blott's, willing the image of cinnamon brown eyes to disappear from his mind.

* * *

He was waiting with the other first years to be sorted in the Great Hall, staring at the ratty old hat as it sang from its' stool. He hadn't seen her on the train, but he and Crabbe and Goyle had been moving between the carriages throughout the journey from London to Hogsmeade so it was easy to have missed her.

He saw her now though. Her eyes flitted excitedly between the singing hat and the enchanted ceiling, as if the magic in the room was unusual and sensational. He reminded himself that to her, it was.

The sorting started with a stream of Hufflepuff's and Ravenclaw's. There were a couple of student's sorted into Gryffindor and then-

"Granger, Hermione!"

She moved up to the stool. So that was her name. _Hermione_. He liked that. Hermione. Her- _my_ -one. His thoughts didn't register as odd until he heard the sorting hat shout her house – 'Gryffindor!' – and he was jolted out of his strangely possessive and borderline stalker-ish musings about her name. A few other students were called and then it was his turn.

He walked up to the front of the school with the confidence that the men in his family oozed. It was important that Malfoy men look powerful at all ages, his father had told him. Until the meeting with the strangely captivating Hermione Granger, he had been sure that Slytherin was the place for him. So why did he want to be sorted into the lion's den with her rather than the snake pit where he was supposed to go?

He sat down and Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head. It had barely touched his hair before it shouted out his place – 'Slytherin!'. So he wasn't a lion, he was definitely a snake.

He got up from the seat when the hat was lifted off of his head and sauntered over to the Slytherin table. When the sorting was finished and Dumbledore had made his speech, the feast began as the food appeared. Unfortunately, so did the ghosts and Draco found himself next to a large, gaunt looking ghoul with blood-stained robes and empty eyes. The Bloody Baron was not a welcoming ghost like the Gryffindor's ghost who was tipping his nearly decapitated head to one side, or the Hufflepuff's friar that seemed to be sharing a joke with the new students. The Ravenclaw's ghost seemed subdued and quickly left the hall once she had given a quick smile to the new students of her house. Draco looked back to the Gryffindor table and found her quickly. Hermione was smiling up at the night sky once again, ignoring her half empty plate as she was distracted by the enchanted ceiling once again. He was happily watching her when her attention suddenly turned away from the ceiling and she locked eyes with him. As if she had sensed him looking at her. A blush rose on his cheeks again and he ducked his head to look at the rest of his dinner, he didn't look up again until the prefect's lead them out of the hall to the dungeons.

* * *

He kept an eye on her, still confused as to why this little muggleborn know-it-all demanded his attention without even realising it. She was lonely, he swore that he could almost feel it. Then there was a day that he felt terribly sad for no reason, nothing had happened to him, he couldn't work out what could have caused this awful ache in his chest. He looked for her at the Halloween feast, positive for some reason that one look at her would take away this pain, but he couldn't find her. Then Quirrel ran in, shouting about a troll in the dungeon before fainting – what kind of Defence teacher faints at the sight of a troll, shouldn't he be the one to deal with it? Draco realised with a start that Hermione didn't know about the troll, she was in danger, what if the troll had already found her? What did trolls do to people anyway? The prefects started ushering the students back to the dormitories and as the crowd squeezed through the door, he heard Potter and the Weasel talking about Hermione. He didn't settle, still bothered by the ache that seemed to linger in his chest. He decided to go to bed, but remained awake long after the candles had burned out, until the ache was gone, replaced by a warm fuzzy feeling that spread through him like the sun.

The next day, he saw her. She was smiling widely, causing his lips to turn up into a smile that went unseen by her but confused Crabbe and Goyle greatly as they saw a genuinely happy expression on his face as opposed to the usual smirk that the Malfoy's tended to favour. His smile faded as he saw that she was flanked by Potter and Weasley, the one that had refused his friendship and the buffoon that laughed at him so openly that first day on the train.

He knew that they weren't friends. Since their encounter at Gringott's, he and Hermione hadn't spoken, save for a few attempts on her part but she stopped trying after he gave her the cold shoulder every time. Her look of sadness, loneliness and defeat hurt him deeply as it was his fault that the sparkle in her eyes dimmed and watered. It pained him to do it, but he knew that he had to. His affection for her was not good, it was better that it didn't exist. His father would punish him, disown him or worse. She wasn't alone anymore, he was happy for her, he was only sad because he couldn't be the one to stop her loneliness.

* * *

Detention! McGonagall had given him detention! And for what? Trying to catch her and those two morons with a dragon _. A dragon_. What was she doing anywhere _near_ a dragon?! Baby or not, dragons were not something that she should be messing around with. He had to do something to keep her away from it. It could…well, it wasn't that big, so it couldn't eat her. It probably couldn't do much damage if it tried to burn her but she could get a little bit singed.

He just wanted her to be safe. That was ok, wasn't it? To try and keep his _not-friend_ safe?

They had landed in detention too.

This whole thing was ridiculous. It was eleven o'clock at night and they were about to head into the Forbidden Forest. Because that's a completely safe thing for eleven year olds to do, _apparently_. They had been split up; she went with Potter and the giant, while he was with Longbottom and the dog. He could still hear them as they walked away, the Longbottom boy didn't appear to be listening to them, maybe he couldn't hear. He rolled his eyes with Potter asked about werewolves again, as if there was nothing else in this stupid, creature-infested, terrifying excuse of a forest.

So maybe he distracted himself by playing a little joke on Longbottom, what else was he supposed to do? But all it did was get him stuck with Potter while Hermione went with the snivelling boy. Then it really turned into a disaster with the shadow and the cloak and the unicorn. Maybe he screamed. Plenty of people would scream if they saw that. What kind of thing drinks unicorn blood? Evil things.

* * *

"To Miss Hermione Granger…for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Whatever had happened that night, the night that he saw her walk with Professor McGonagall to the hospital wing, covered in dust and dirt, it was big. He knew that from the 170 last minute house points they earned. He knew that from the rumours that had been flying around the school. He knew that from the worried looks that she shot at Potter and Weasley. He also knew because of the sheer terror that he had felt for those few hours that he couldn't explain.

There was a lot about her that he couldn't explain.


	3. Second Year

"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," his father snapped coldly.

They were in Borgin and Burke's on Knocturn Alley. All summer long he had put up with these remarks from his father. The punishment he had received when his father had been given his end of year report was harsh, but less than he had been expecting. He had been confined to his rooms for the first two weeks of the holidays, Dobby had been sent to his room that week to give him his meals and collect the work that he had been set. When he was allowed out of his rooms, Dobby seemed to have disappeared. Dobby was a little bit odd, even for a house elf, but he had been with him since Draco was an infant and so Draco was used to Dobby's rambling speech and occasional bouts of clumsiness. His father was very distant, it was as if Draco was his heir and no more. His mother loved him like a mother should, but he knew that his father did not care for him. He had always known.

His mother hadn't been able to take him shopping for school supplies before leaving for her travels, and so his father had agreed to accompany him. The Malfoy men were in a bad mood whenever Narcissa was not with them. She was travelling through the continent, visiting a couple of distant relations that she had found and wanted to speak with. Approaching Potter and the Weasley family had been a bad idea, he knew that, but she was there. Despite being there with his father, he still wanted to be near her. It had been so long since the school year had ended and he hadn't seen her since. She was taller, not by much but he still noticed. Her skin was also more tanned, her hair a little bit longer. He had been studying her so closely that he hadn't noticed what his father was doing, what he was saying. It was only when the man and woman standing behind Hermione began to look frightened and offended that he snapped his attention back to his father. Lucius Malfoy's eyes were fixed on them, his mouth twisted up into that familiarly cruel smirk.

"The company you keep, Weasley…and I thought your family could sink no lower-"

It wouldn't do for a Malfoy to cheer for another man as he leapt at his father, but that was what Draco wanted to do when Arthur Weasley jumped to hit his father. Two of the Weasley boys _did_ cheer for their father and shouted encouragements, while their mother shrieked for him to stop. The scuffle was soon broken up by a shop assistant and in the quiet that came as his father seethed in anger and touched his bleeding lip, he looked up at the Granger family. Mr and Mrs Granger looked shaken, he wasn't surprised, but Hermione was looking back at him with that confused pout that he had seen over a year ago when they first met. He schooled his face, wiping away any trace of amusement that he had felt when he saw his father get injured by an Encyclopaedia of Toadstools, and glanced at her with a haughty expression that he had perfected long ago.

"Granger," he nodded in goodbye, before walking away after his father who had swept out of the store, his cloak billowing out behind him as he moved quickly into the street.

* * *

It wasn't until those redheaded twins had jumped on him that he realised what he had said.

_"You filthy little Mudblood."_

Crap. He didn't mean to, but he had said it. His mother had been gone for the rest of the summer once he had been allowed to leave his rooms and she hadn't been allowed to visit him while he was being punished. His mother didn't think like that, but his father did. All summer long he had been made to study for most of the day and practise his spellwork so that he wouldn't be 'outdone by that little Mudblood' as his father said. His rants about those that weren't of pure blood weren't new, but his exposure to them was. Normally, his mother was able to remove Draco from the room once his father got started, but without her, he had been forced to sit and listen.

Had this really happened in just a few months? He had purposefully ignored her the year before so that he wouldn't have to deal with being friends with a muggleborn and his father finding out. Ignoring her was better than this. Calling her… _that word_ …

Things would never be good again. He had caught her smiling at him sometimes, he didn't even think that she had realised that she was doing it, but he felt her eyes on her every time she did it. It filled him with warmth to know that even though he wasn't her friend, there was a possibility that one day, when his father was no longer an issue, they could be. But that chance was gone.

It was all his father's fault. It was all _his_ fault.

* * *

It was a few days before Christmas that he plucked up the courage to go and apologise. It was late in the evening, half an hour before curfew when he walked over to her table in the almost empty library.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked, not glancing up at him from her textbook and parchment.

He played with his hands, a show of nervousness, Malfoy's weren't allowed to be nervous. They also weren't allowed to apologise. They also weren't allowed to associate with…witches like her.

"I-I want to a-apologise," he started awkwardly.

She lifted her head to stare at him directly, he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "What for?"

"Fo-for…you know what for!"

She raised an eyebrow in a manner that didn't seem to fit a thirteen year old girl, but would be more suited to his mother. "I don't believe I do," she said coolly. "When you know exactly what you want to apologise for, we can try this again."

She turned her attention back to her essay and left him gaping at her, not quite sure about where this cool attitude had appeared from. The Hermione that he had met last summer was excitable and friendly, but now he had called her _that word_ and destroyed any possibility of them being friendly. His shoulders slumped and he dropped down into the seat opposite her.

"I'm sorry for calling you… _that word_ ," he said.

"What word?" she asked, once again keeping her eyes on her parchment.

" _What word?!_ " he repeated, his voice high and slightly shrill. " _That word_ , Granger, I know you're not an idiot-"

Her head snapped up at that, "I know I'm not an idiot, Malfoy. I want you to say the word…"

"I-I-Why?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, something that he couldn't help but watch intently. "Just say it!"

"Mudblood," he mumbled reluctantly.

"So my blood is dirty?" she asked, that eyebrow quirking up again. "I think you inbred moron's might want to take a closer look at your family tree's before you suggest that _my_ blood is tainted. At least _my_ parents aren't _cousins_."

She began packing up her bag while he looked on, his mouth hanging wide open once more. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Pureblood's like you call me 'mudblood' when the pureblood world is rife with inbreeding! _Your_ family is related to just about every other pureblood family in Britain," she began. "Your families are so concerned with keeping your blood 'pure' that you've left yourselves vulnerable to health risks and you also have a high chance of having non-magical children if it continues…" she trailed off, confused pout returning as she noticed his complete look of bewilderment.

"Wha-what do you mean?"

"Your family is related to the Crabbe's, the Goyle's, the Rosier's, the Bulstrode's, the McMillan's, the Weasley's-"

"Wait, what? The Weasel's? How do you know all of this?"

"Well, you annoyed me and there are books on the Ancient houses in the History section," she answered, pointing at a shelf a few feet behind him. Her eyes did that sparkling thing that he had missed recently and she smirked at him slightly, "Ron is your third cousin once removed."

"What did you mean health risks? Why wouldn't my children be magical?" he asked, leaning forward in his seat.

She rolled her eyes again, "Don't you know anything about science?" At his blank look she continued, "See? Us 'Mudbloods' have one up on you there, we get an education before we come to Hogwarts-"

"I had tutor's growning up!" he cried indignantly.

"Yes, well muggle children go to school and learn things other than how entitled they are, as _you_ apparently did." She refused to let him interrupt her again and carried on, "There's a muggle studies section in here, I'd suggest you check out some books on biology and genetics, then see who's blood is 'muddier', yours or mine."

And she left the library, not turning back to see the young boy staring after her in astonishment.

* * *

His father had cut dinner short on Christmas Eve after his Uncle Severus, _Professor Snape_ , had told him about Draco achieving the second best grade on their recent Potion's test. Hermione had the highest marks.

It was one of those books on genetics that his father had found on Draco's dresser on evening. When questioned, Draco told his father that he wanted to see things from a muggle perspective. That wasn't the wisest choice.

Lucius had given him a punishment from a 'muggle perspective'. That was what he said.

Later on, when he was sure that Lucius had gone to bed for the night, his mother had appeared in his room and sat at the bottom of his bed. Draco was curled up under the covers nursing his broken arm.

"Draco, dear," she called to him and he went to her. He sat up in his bed and clung to his mother, unashamed of how he might look as he desperately sought out the comfort that he needed.

"Mother, do…do you feel the same way that Father does?" he asked shyly, his face still buried in his mother's neck.

"Feel the same way about what?" she asked, confused.

"About…muggleborns…?"

Narcissa paused for a moment, puzzled at her son's question. She had heard Lucius ranting quietly to himself as he had left Draco's room and returned to his study before bed, but had assumed that it was simply about Draco achieving a lower grade than the muggleborn girl. Was Draco questioning his father? More importantly, what would be his reason if he was?

"Why are you asking me, Draco?"

"Because...father says that muggleborns are not worthy of magic; that they're disgusting and stupid and ugly..."

"And?" she prompted.

He huffed slightly but continued, "Crabbe and Goyle are purebloods and they are without a doubt, the stupidest people I have ever met. And really, purebloods aren't a typically pretty lot, not you Mum," he said quickly, "but have you seen our family tree? We're related in some way to almost every pureblood family in Europe!"

"I don't understand why that's-"

" _Inbreeding_ ," he said, with a wave of his unbroken arm.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"It's a muggle thing, or rather, it's something that wizards don't know about-"

Narcissa was shocked to hear Draco start to explain to her about muggle scientific theories - or rather, biological facts. But she listened as he continued. "And it makes sense," Draco said.

"What does?"

"Well, I think we've done ok on the looks front, but some others? Have you seen the nose on Parkinson? It looks like she had a disagreement with a frying pan-"

"Draco!" Narcissa chastised quickly.

"Really, Mother?" Draco raised an eyebrow, looking remarkably similar to the teasing expression she had seen on her husband years ago.

"Well, fine but you shouldn't say anything," Narcissa smirked, conceding the point. "And how did you come to find out about this?"

Draco shifted slightly on his bed. "It was something that someone said..." he trailed off.

"Who?" Narcissa asked, puzzled. "It must have been a muggleborn or someone curious enough to research the muggle world…" she mused out loud.

"It was Hermione Granger..."

"The Potter boy's little friend?"

"Yes, her," he answered uncomfortably.

"And she's made you think about all of this?" Narcissa questioned, smirking slightly at her son as he averted gaze and unsuccessfully hid his flushed cheeks from her.

"Well, yes, she's muggle born and she's at the top of most of the classes, so she isn't stupid! A-and i-i think sh-she's..." Narcissa's eyebrows raised at her son's stammering, something she had never witnessed before.

"She's what?"

"She's the prettiest girl in school," Draco mumbled, his blush standing out clearly now as he spoke to his mother.

"And you were talking to her about muggle science?" she ventured.

"Uh...no. We had argued and she said something about me being an _inbred moron_..."

"Why would she say that? Why were you arguing with her, if you like her-"

"Because I'm not allowed to be nice to her," Draco muttered. "There are always people around and if it got back to father that I was nice to a muggleborn, he'd..." Draco trailed off, but his mother knew where his mind had gone. It was no wonder he never spoke favourably about those of less pure blood in front of his father, not after the beating he had received earlier this evening and the punishments that he had endured over the past year to make up for coming in second to a muggleborn girl.

"But surely there are times when you can be alone with her, you could make her see that you don't _want_ to treat her that way."

"She'd never believe me," he sighed sadly.

"She might," Narcissa said hopefully.

"No, she won't. I've been horrible to her," he insisted.

"Oh darling, I'm sure that if you apologised-"

"I called her a mudblood, Mum," Draco snapped irritably. "I've already tired apologising, that's when she told me to research muggle biology."

Narcissa closed her eyes, "Oh son." She remembered the time that Severus had sat outside the Gryffindor common room until morning came, just waiting for Lily Evans so that he could apologise for calling her that word. They had been best friends before then, Draco didn't have that with this girl. If she knew him only as a bully, Narcissa knew that Draco would torment himself over not being able to prove that he was really sorry. "That's why she said that your blood wasn't pure?"

Draco nodded, "She said that her blood wasn't more tainted than mine."

_Tainted._

Narcissa straightened up when she heard that word. Her son was tainted. How could she have forgotten? Only this past summer she had gone to the mainland to try and track down some distant relatives of the Black family in an attempt to find out more about her son's veela side. He would be coming into his inheritance soon. Or was it already happening?

Had Draco found his mate? Merlin help him if it was this Hermione girl, Lucius would pitch a fit.

"Draco, darling. I think I need to tell you something about our family, something that your father can never know…"

* * *

Narcissa had healed Draco's wounds with the help of Dobby the house elf and sent him back to Hogwarts on Christmas morning, wanting to get him far away from Lucius. The twelve year old boy was far too worried about what he had learned yesterday to do anything but annoy his father. He had been daydreaming all morning and had almost fallen asleep in his breakfast, having been unable to get to sleep the night before after the information overload from his mother. She had told him that he had to continue to act like his father, since _unfortunately_ , he had been doing a good job of that lately. She knew that the Slytherins talked, and so it would get back to Lucius that his son was friendly with a muggleborn student, especially one that was friends with the Potter boy.

Crabbe and Goyle were acting strangely that evening, he felt that he may have laid it on a bit thick. His mother's theory that Hermione might actually be his mate seemed more realistic when he felt a sharp pain run through his chest when he said that he wished her dead.

Of course he didn't really mean it, some days, seeing her was the only bright spot in his day. He couldn't imagine anything bad happening to her. Actually, he could, but these thoughts came to him in bad dreams and left him feeling sick for the rest of the day.

That seemed to settle it for him. He always knew that there was something unusual about him. His mother's story about his ancestors and then all the way down to his grandfather and his cousins once removed, Sirius and Regulus, one in Azkaban and the other missing but assumed dead, laid the idea to rest. He wasn't mad about it. It explained a lot. Why he couldn't stop paying attention to her, why he cared so much about her, despite knowing that he shouldn't. It explained why he was thinking about a girl so much, he didn't care for any other girls at all, not romantically, not as friends, nothing. But he was fixated on one girl, with untameable hair and cinnamon eyes that _glared_ at him from across the Great Hall.

One day, he would fix it. He had to, they would be ok…one day.

* * *

This stupid heir of Slytherin business had to stop soon. It was sort of funny when it was that idiot cat. Then just sort of confusing when the Gryffindor ghost ended up in the hospital wing. But now she'd gone and got herself petrified. _Great._

He snuck in to the Hospital Wing a few times at night to see her. She couldn't talk to him, he didn't think she was even awake, so it was safe. He was safe to sit beside her, closer than he had ever been before. He didn't touch her though, that would be weird. She wasn't awake and his mother had warned him about a veela's first touch with their mate. If he was going to pine after her hopelessly, he didn't want her to be unconscious the whole time.

She could have died. He could have died. Then he'd be just another boy with the Black bad luck gene. He didn't think that there was actually a gene about luck. There hadn't been one mentioned in the book that he had taken out of the library.

"You know, if you were awake, you could explain some of this genetics stuff to me…"

* * *

He hadn't seen her when she had woken up, not until they were on the platform at King's Cross. He passed through the barrier to the muggle world, ready to meet his mother at a café near the station as they had when he had come home last year. As he was about to leave, he saw her walking with her parents, he recognised them from the incident at Flourish and Blott's the previous summer. She looked healthy, happy and most importantly, awake. Her father took her trunk from her trolley and loaded it into the boot of their car. As if she felt her eyes on him, she turned, as she always did, and caught his eyes. The few seconds of eye contact seemed to liven him up again. He had been struggling after discovering that his veela side was the cause of his affection for her, finding that she was his mate and then her being in a monster-induced-coma for the rest of the school year hadn't been that good for his health and he was worn out.

With a confused smile, she turned away from him, and back to her parents.

He too turned away, and walked to the café to meet his mother, smiling for the first time since he had visited Hermione in the Hospital Wing.


	4. Third Year

Narcissa had found her Uncle Alphard, her father had died a few years after Draco's birth and there was very little privacy at Malfoy Manor so speaking with his portrait was not something that Draco could do without his father finding out. The secret meetings with his great Uncle Alphard had helped a lot. He had experience with supressing his veela urges until he had won his mate over, something that was especially important as his mate was a muggle. Draco's mate had uncertain feelings about him, but they bordered on loathing, something that he was desperate to fix while still keeping his father out of the picture.

The Black's in the know were also concerned about Sirius' escape from Azkaban. The man had been locked up for 12 years, the family unsure whether or not he had found and claimed his mate. If he hadn't, he was in danger of dying. If he had, he was still in danger, but slightly more mentally stable. None of them were sympathetic to his imprisonment, they had all been stung by those that believed in the pureblood hype and didn't wish to associate themselves with one of their own that would forget their own 'impurity' and follow along with the rest of the Dark Lord's sheep. Sirius and Regulus were both Death Eaters and they were no better than Lucius or any of Lord Voldemort's other pets.

* * *

The scents were confusing. Alphard had told him that his senses would improve, but he hadn't expected this. He could barely stomach sitting in the Great Hall during meals and had to sneak nausea and sensory dampening potions from the Hospital Wing so that he could last the day.

The Transfiguration classroom smelled of Ginger Newts and cat hair, unsurprising really. The Divination tower had almost killed him as the overpowering smell of the incense hit him. He was glad that Potions was in the dungeons as he had rushed straight to his dormitory as soon as the class had let out, desperate to scrub the smell of all the ingredients from his skin and shed his clothes.

Defence Against The Dark Arts was an odd lesson. There was always the smell of whatever creature they were studying, along with the underlying scent of dog. Not dog, but something like it.

That wasn't even mentioning the smell of the other students. He could smell everything! He could smell their natural scent, their shampoo, their soap, their conditioner, what ink they were using, the parchment that they held, the books in their bag…everything that had a scent, Draco knew about it.

And her. She smelled of honey and orange blossoms, he didn't know how and he didn't care. All he knew was that it was all he wanted to smell. After Potions, he began his shower with an orange scented soap followed by a honey based shampoo. He tried to surround himself with her scent, as girly as it was, Alphard said that it would make the distance easier. He couldn't very well camp outside Gryffindor tower at night. She also smelled of cat hair, he didn't know that she had a cat until he saw the fluffy squashed-nosed thing following her into the library one evening. Of course she smelled of parchments and books, most of her time outside of classes was spent in that library.

It seemed like she was everywhere, but how would that be possible. He would see her walking in one direction and then reach his classroom and find her walking the opposite way. What was going on?

It took him a couple of months to make the discovery, and he was sure that she had done the same, judging by the suspicious and then sad glances that she shot at the man when he wasn't looking but their D.A.D.A. teacher was a werewolf. That's what the scent in his rooms was. Not quite dog, but definitely canine. He was a wolf. _Great_. As if he hadn't spent all of last year waiting for her to get attacked by some mystery monster, now he had to worry about their teacher biting her.

* * *

She touched him.

Ok, maybe it was a slap, but it was enough. He didn't feel bad about what he had said about the giant, because she had touched him. Madame Pomphrey had stopped his nosebleed quickly but had kept him in after seeing his dazed expression, sending a note to Professor Snape that said he had a concussion and would not be in his dormitory that evening.

When Professor Snape arrived at the Hospital Wing to check on him, he was disturbed to see the lovesick expression on hid godson's face.

"What's the matter with you, boy?"

Draco took no notice of his godfather's snappish tone and instead, turned and beamed at the stern man. "She touched me!"

Snape looked at Madame Pomphrey who shook her head and shrugged, "That's all he's been saying for the past hour."

The Potions Master told him that he'd send a note to his mother and he should expect an owl in the morning, Draco did nothing but beam at him.

* * *

Later that night as Madame Pomphrey fussed over the three Gryffindors, he was close enough to smell her. She smelled of honey, blossoms, orange cats, parchment, dust, dirt, blood, dog, wolf…what the hell had she been doing?! He could hear her voice from the bed next to his, separated only by a curtain.

How did he land a mate that seemed hell-bent on getting into trouble all the time?! If she wasn't working herself sick, she was already in the hospital wing, or she was pratting about just _being vulnerable_! It was maddening!

He had felt her fear, stronger than ever before, because of that damned slap. If she hadn't have touched him, it would be easier for him to stay away, but she had. He couldn't blame her though, it wasn't as if she knew that one touch from her would start the call.

She had called to him in her fear, not knowing what she was doing. It seemed to spike and then fall before spiking once more. He heard the howl of a werewolf in the forest and hoped that she wasn't anywhere near it, somehow knowing that his little Gryffindor would be right there with that damned wolf.

He was 14. He was a veela. He had a mate who didn't know about their connection and insisted on getting into dangerous and completely avoidable situations whenever possible. He really had his work cut out for him.


	5. Fourth Year

In hindsight, it might not have been the best way to phrase a warning, but Potter and Weasley were there and he didn't want them to be present for one of his moderately-nice-moments with Hermione.

"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger."

The three of them turned and ran away from the Death Eaters as they moved through the crowd targeting muggleborns and muggles. He knew that this wasn't the end of the night's ' _festivities_ ' as his father had put it. His mother had whisked him away quickly and they had arrived back at the Manor, his father's absence filling him with dread.

Both he and his mother had seen how he had looked at Hermione before the match had started. It was a look that he saved for muggleborns, house elves and particularly annoying blood traitors. What if his father did something to Hermione? He couldn't handle it, _literally_ ; he knew that he would die if she did, any harm that was done to her would also affect him.

* * *

He knew that Hermione would end up in this tournament somehow. Draco just knew it. He just didn't expect for her to show up at the Yule Ball on the arm of the Durmstrang champion. He knew that he couldn't ask her, no matter how much it pained him to see her on the arm of another. She looked beautiful, it wasn't his first time seeing her out of her uniform, but seeing her dressed up for an occasion like this showed others how beautiful she was. He had mixed feelings about it, on one hand, she was his mate and she was gorgeous; on the other, she was _his_ mate and these other plebs needed to avert their eyes. He was glad that she wasn't with Weasley, although the shouting match that he saw at the end of the night seemed to annoy both participants, Potter and himself, though he was quick to hide it.

Then she was at the bottom of the lake. Of course she was. It took every ounce of willpower he had to stop himself from marching over to Krum as he stood on the deck fussing over Hermione in her thick woollen blanket as she batted his hands away in annoyance.

Didn't he see that she didn't want his big, oafish hands touching her? Yes, she went to the ball with him, but he was 18 and she had just turned 15 a few months ago, wasn't that a little bit creepy? Why was she the most important thing to him anyway? They had only known each other for a few months, if that.

* * *

 _Bloody hell_.

He knew that there had been developments. Since the night that Potter had appeared in front of the crowd holding a dead Cedric Diggory, Draco's father had seemed happier than he had ever seen him before, something that disturbed Draco and his mother greatly. He had almost smiled at Draco when he had passed him walking through the Manor one evening, dressed in black robes that he had only seen at the Quidditch World Cup the previous summer.

He knew what his father was. He just didn't want to believe that he had come from this man.

His mother was a gentle woman, but she had been bound to Lucius since she was 10 years old, being the youngest of three daughters, her father had promised her to the first family that had proposed a betrothal. They knew that the Malfoy's leaned to the darker side of magic, darker than any of the Black's had ever leaned before Sirius and Regulus took up with the Dark Lord along with the insane Bellatrix. But after Andromeda had run off with the muggleborn Ted Tonks, no one had made a better offer for the youngest daughter. Narcissa couldn't divorce Lucius without evidence to back up any claims that she made. Allegations of abuse either towards Draco or herself would be shot down quickly, Lucius ordered the house elves to make sure that they were healed properly with no marks left on them. He was a respected member of the community, the pureblood community, at any rate, so no one would support her. The only member of their family that was available to support a petition for divorce was Alphard and he had been disowned, the head of the House of Black was the escaped convict Sirius Black and they were not about to go searching for him.

So they stayed out of Lucius' way. Avoided his chipper moods as much as they did his terrible ones. The mother and son duo stayed to their wing of the Manor, they had moved there together as it was ' _imperative that their rooms be redecorated over the summer, before Draco leaves for Hogwarts'_ leaving them to take bedrooms far away from Lucius. He didn't question it, although it made little sense. Lucius let things slide as he became busy with ' _work_ '. Draco felt sick as he imagined what ' _work_ ' his father could possibly be doing. He had seen his father working in his study before, but he didn't trail bloody footprints through the entrance hall after a long day of managing the accounts. This work was different. This work was dangerous. They had to get out of that house.


	6. Fifth Year - A Truth is Told

Draco was walking through the corridor on his way to Potions with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him. It was only a few days until the term finished and everyone would go home for Christmas. Draco had barely seen Hermione, they hadn't spoken alone since she called him an 'inbred moron' back in their second year, and they hadn't touched since she hit him in their third. Draco's need to be close to her was driving him mad, since everything that he was told to do pushed her further away from him, making his veela annoyed and miserable. They turned the corner and Draco felt his heart jump happily.

 _She's here_ , he realised quickly that she was flanked by both Potty and Weasel so he schooled his face to show his default smirk. The three of them were waiting with the rest of the Gryffindor's waiting for Snape to let them into the classroom. They hadn't noticed him yet as the two boys were looking at Hermione with sad smiles.

He had noticed since that since the start of the school year, Hermione seemed more withdrawn and even seemed less healthy than before. He had even seen the Weaslette adding more food to her plate during meal times when the boys weren't watching, so he knew that she mustn't have been eating properly. He didn't know the cause of Hermione's problem and it made his veela even more desperate to get close to her, to claim her and do anything to make her feel better.

His sharpened senses meant that he could pick up snippets of their conversation, which he tried to do as often as possible. He feigned interest in whatever Crabbe and Goyle were blabbering on about and listened out to the trio's conversation.

"You can stay with us, you know? Mum keeps asking," the Weasel said.

"No, no. It's ok. I kind of just want a quiet Christmas this year…" Hermione said.

 _What? Why wasn't she going home for Christmas?_ Even he was going home for Christmas, and that was the last thing that he wanted to do. But if she was staying at school over Christmas, then he could stay too. Without Potter, Weasel and the She-Weasel around, maybe he could…

"So are you staying here?" Potter asked. "I can owl Mrs Weasley and tell her I'm staying here, if you want."

"No, I'm going home-"

_Damn._

"-Remus said it'll just be me and him most of the time. We'll be with _certain people_ though, so I'll still see you over the holidays."

_What? She's going home, but not to her parents? Who's this Remus? Wait, that werewolf professor had dropped them all off at the station, was he the Remus that she meant? What the hell was she doing living with that old wolf?!_

"Oh yeah, Mum mentioned something about Lupin coming over on Boxing Day, he came last year too-"

Before he could stop himself, his mind seemed to jump into the 'angry veela mode' that Alphard had told him about, although Alphard had been joking at the time and Draco's jealousy was not something that he found to be amused about at that moment. He whipped his head around and sneered at the three Gryffindor's whose attention had snapped to him at that moment.

"Ready for Christmas?"

The trio, as well as the other students in the corridor, looked confused by the odd question and were apparently too confused to make a response.

"Weasel will be going back to his hovel, he'll be taking St Potter with him, what about you Granger?"

He looked at each of them in turn before laying his eyes on Hermione, taken aback slightly by her steely gaze but not letting his surprise show.

"Not that it's any of your business, Malfoy, but –"

Potter interrupted quietly, "Hermione, you don't have to deal with him."

"Shut up, Harry."

"Yeah, shut up, Potter!" he jeered.

"Zip it, Ferret!" her eyes darted back to him. "I'm staying with Professor Lupin," she answered, her head tilted up at him defiantly, as if daring him to say something.

Draco, being in 'angry veela mode' as well as his 'Lucius Jr mode', took the bait. "Shacking up with a teacher, eh? I'm not that surprised really, I mean, you always have been the teacher's pet, now you've got a teacher _for_ a pet!"

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed loudly at this, a few other Slytherins snickered too, while the Gryffindors glared at him in angry silence. He was used to it though, and his smirk hardly wavered as his little mate stared at him in what looked like disgust.

She stepped towards him angrily, since he didn't move, they were almost touching before Potter pulled her back slightly. "Hermione, don't-"

She ignored him, "Don't you _ever_ speak about Remus like that, he is a better man than you will ever be; you're just a ferret in a _little boy's body_. How dare you insinuate something like that! For you information," she sneered, unaware of how he flinched internally at having his mate direct such hatred towards him, "Remus is my guardian, so yes, I live with him-"

Draco's curiosity got the better of him, and before he could think, he had blurted out his question. "Why?"

Hermione paused, "Why?" Even Potter and Weasley looked a mixture of confused and angry at how the confrontation had changed direction. She began to laugh coldly, a laugh that he never wanted to hear from her again. She sounded empty, sad, hollow even. "You want to know why Remus is my guardian? You want to know why I'm not going home to my parents for Christmas?"

"'Mione, let's just go in early-"

"No Ron, Malfoy wants to know why," she said, not even looking at the boy. "My parents are dead, Malfoy. That's why."

"I-I-what?"

"You didn't know? How odd…your father must have told you about it, I really thought he would have," she stared him down still, as if examining his reaction to her news.

"How would he…?

"How would he know? Malfoy, one tends to know when you've killed someone. Killing _two someone's_ would probably be even more memorable. Although, he did seem rather good at it, so maybe he's had a lot of practise."

The classroom door opened at that point and the other students rushed in, fully aware and slightly frightened of Hermione's anger. She turned and walked into the classroom, leaving a stunned Malfoy alone facing Potter and Weasley who were caught between looking hopelessly after their grieving friend and glaring at their enemy.

"I didn't…I didn't know…"

"Sure you didn't," Weasley snarled. "You and the rest of your Death Eater family, just leave her alone!" he finished, whipping around and rushing into the Potions room, Potter stalking angrily after him.

"I didn't know…"

"I don't doubt that you were unaware of the extent of your father's activities, Draco," Snape said as he appeared beside him. "But Mr Weasley is right _, for once_. It would be best if you did nothing to provoke Miss Granger, you've felt her right hook and that would be nothing to what she would do to you now if given the chance."

"But Uncle Sev-"

"Just get in the classroom, Draco," Snape said, pinching between his eyes tiredly. "And 2 points from Slytherin for out of place overfamiliarity."

The potions master glided towards the door.

"Overfamiliarity?! You're my godfather!"

"Not in these corridors I'm not, you're currently one minute late, do you want to make that 5 points?"


	7. Fifth Year - A Decision is Made

Draco didn't think of anything else that day. Once again, he was glad that Potions was the last lesson so that he could head straight to his dormitory rather than sit through more lessons. But he wasn't comforted by the smell of his shampoo or soap as he had been every other day, surrounding himself in her scent only made him think of her and the sharp, yet hollow, look in her eyes as she glared at him. He didn't blame her for hating him. He would feel the same way if someone killed his mother and then he was forced to see their mini-me at school every day. He had never hated his father more than that day. Not when Lucius had broken his bones, or beaten him unconscious, not when he had come home with that sick smile after the Dark Lord's return. The closest he had come to this was when he had seen Lucius hit his mother. Narcissa had spoken 'out of turn' and was thrown to the floor with the force of his slap. Later, she had assured him that he had never done it before, but Draco wasn't sure how true that was.

He went to his bed and shut the curtains around him, blocking out the other boys in his dorm, ignoring their calls for him to come with them or miss dinner. He wasn't hungry. There was the pang of sadness that he had felt for months now, but he had only just discovered what it was. For months now, he had been grieving with her, without knowing. There were times where it would fade into the background, only to return with a vengeance that almost overwhelmed him. This was what his father had done to her.

It was 2am when he emerged from his bed. Satisfied that the others were asleep, he walked out of the room without much thought. He didn't change out of his rumpled clothes, or fix his hair. He was almost in the common room when he realised that he didn't have any shoes on and would have to turn back, if he was caught by anyone, even Snape, being seen roaming the corridors in only his socks would not be a good move.

He finally left the dungeons, shoes on and all, and walked quietly. He was a prefect, so he knew who was on patrol; two Hufflepuffs, who would be on the other side of the castle by now, so he was safe. He silenced his shoes when he heard the echo that they caused along the corridor, keeping his head down to avoid the gaze of any awake portraits that might question what he was doing. It felt like it took hours for him to reach his destination, when in reality, it had taken him 5 minutes to get here.

But now he was here, he didn't know what to do. There was a password, that much he knew. And it would doubtless be something stupid. He whispered polite pleas to get inside without any response, and was just about to kick the statue when he heard an amused voice from behind him.

"Sherbert Lemons," it said.

Draco span around to see the aged professor looking at him worriedly, as if wondering what he was doing up at this time, never mind him being awake as well.

"I assume you were looking for me?" Professor Dumbledore asked when no explanations or questions were asked. Again, no words left Draco's mouth. The boy only nodded, a quiet, strangled sound escaped his lips. Professor Dumbledore gestured to the staircase that had appeared when the gargoyle had moved out of their way, "Perhaps this discussion would be best had in my office."

Draco nodded again and began walking up the stairs to the headmaster's office, still unsure of what would come of the meeting that he had _apparently_ wanted.

* * *


	8. Fifth Year - Reaching Out

Draco sat in the chair opposite Professor Dumbledore's desk as the headmaster moved behind it, making tea that Draco was sure he wouldn't be able to stomach at that moment. He wondered if the old man knew that he was trying to get in and popped up behind him to confuse him, maybe he just made the rounds of the school during the night, but never mind, that wasn't important.

He took the tea when it was offered to him, holding it on his knee and ignoring the rattling of the cup and saucer as the china sat unsteadily on his shaking knee. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Dumbledore acting interested in some papers on his desk, allowing the boy to gather his thoughts.

"I need…" he struggled. Dumbledore's attention slipped back to him, his normally twinkly eyes were almost dull in their seriousness. "I know that my father is not a good man."

Draco looked away from Dumbledore's surprised face. He knew that everyone but his mother, grandfather and his great uncle thought that he worshipped his father, even Lucius was sure that he did. "I have known for a long time. I cannot…" he trailed off.

"Mr Malfoy-"

"Please don't."

"Draco," he amended. "I'm afraid I don't know what you want from me," he prompted sympathetically.

"I knew that he did things…but I didn't know that he…he killed them…I didn't know, I swear to you, I didn't know."

Dumbledore set aside his tea, leaning further over his desk towards Draco. "You said he killed 'them', who are you referring to?"

"Hermione's parents," he whispered brokenly.

Dumbledore fell back in his seat. He knew, of course, that Lucius had killed the Granger's. Hermione had told him as such and he had seen her memory of coming home to see him wave at her from the front porch before apparating away, leaving her to run into the house and almost trip over her parent's dead bodies in the hallway. What he hadn't expected was the look of grief and sadness that the Malfoy boy was expressing over the death of 'Hermione's parents', he would be surprised if the two had been in a relationship considering the words that he had heard slip from Miss Granger's mouth about the Malfoy's after the event, words that he wouldn't even think she knew.

"Ah, I see. Mr-Draco," he corrected again, "what did you wish to see me about?"

"That Order thing. I heard him talking about it, saying that you're countering them. I can help you," he finished tersely.

"Now Draco-"

"No. I know that everyone thinks that I'm Lucius Jr., a Death Eater in waiting, that I hate _half-breeds_ and _mudbloods_ , but-!" the headmaster's glare hurried his speech along, causing his voice to shake nervously, "if you ask my mother, she'll tell you. I have to do this, please, let me help. I can't take it for much longer."

The headmaster watched him for a moment, silently weighing his options. Without saying anything, he grabbed a quill and a scrap of parchment, writing a note which he duplicated and handed them both to Fawkes. With a nod to the bird, it disappeared, going to Merlin knows where. Draco leapt up from his seat, the teacup and saucer shattering on the stone floor as the chair clattered to the floor behind him.

"What the hell are you doing?! I come and tell you this and-and-who did you send those to?!"

Draco's questions were answered as the flames in the fireplace turned green and Professor McGonagall walked into the room, the same happened again 30 seconds later and Professor Snape walked in. Draco almost turned green at the sight of his godfather, this was a bad idea, and how could Dumbledore bring Severus here after what he had said?

"Draco," Dumbledore called to him gently, "please take your seat. Minerva, Severus, a quick word if you please."

Draco picked his chair up and sat down again, trying not to look as the three teachers whispered to each other, yet he couldn't help but glance nervously at his godfather every few seconds. He was his _godfather,_ his father's _best friend,_ he had dinner at their house every Christmas, every birthday. Surely that meant that he was on his father's side, on Voldemort's side. Why would Dumbledore summon him now?

He caught Severus' eye for a second before staring determinately at what remained of his tea, now pooled on the floor in front of him. It was a few minutes before the teacher's moved and Severus approached him. The Potion's master sat down on the extra seat beside his, taking care not to unsettle him. Sharing an uncomfortable look with the other two professors' he started to speak.

"Draco, do you wish for us to bring your mother here?" he asked quietly.

Draco nodded hesitantly, "Lucius cannot know. She won't be safe if he knows that I've talked about this…Uncle, are you…?"

Severus sighed, and covered Draco's hand with his own, "There are a great number of things that you should not know, but please trust that your father will not hear of this. He cannot know anything of my part in the Order, or what we talk about."

"But you're my father's best-"

"Things change," Severus interrupted. "Your father and I made some bad decisions in our youth, only my opinions have changed while Lucius…I fear that he will never change."

Professor McGonagall spoke up from her place beside Dumbledore, "Perhaps we should continue this tomorrow when we have Mrs Malfoy here, it is quite early and you'll need to get some rest before lessons."

Draco nodded, eager to get away from the office and back to his bed, even though he knew that the chance of him getting any sleep at all was small.

He left the office and walked back to the Slytherin dormitory, his mind still caught on his mother, his mate and his godfather, hoping that he was making the right choice.


	9. Fifth Year - The Meeting Part 1

The next day, Draco sat in the Great Hall beside Blaise, moving his food around his plate. He had only managed a few bites of his breakfast, and was unable to stomach any more with the thought of today's meeting with his mother and his professors.

The notice came during Divination, meaning that he was able to escape the heavy incense that filled the tower with that absolute loon of a teacher. He wasn't able to grab a quick shower afterwards as he normally did, instead rushing to the headmaster's office, still smelling strongly of the fumes. He gave the password to the gargoyle and watched as it moved out of the way, the sound of the scraping stone grating on his ears.

He heard his mother before he saw her, heard her through the wooden office door as she spoke to Severus and Dumbledore. He knocked on the door and it opened for him. Within seconds, he was rushed by his mother and pulled into a hug.

"Are you ok? Severus told me what happened, how is she? That's a daft question, I suppose. I mean how are you with how she feels? Uncle said that you can feel her, how are-"

Narcissa's ramblings were cut short by Severus, who asked them to take their seats so that they could all speak. Draco shared a grateful glance with the man over the top of his mother's head, something that brought a smirk to Severus' face.

"Now, Draco, we have your mother here so that we can all have a nice chat," Dumbledore began in his odd grandfatherly way. "I believe that there is something else going on, perhaps you could share with us? Anything that we speak of here will be kept strictly between us, no one else has to know-"

"No one else _can_ know!"

"Draco," his mother tutted, tapping his knees scoldingly. "I'm sure that the headmaster didn't mean he was going to go running into the Great Hall to tell everyone if we said that it was alright for others to know. And eventually, someone else will have to know…" she trailed off with a hopeful expression, one that, despite Draco's sadness, he couldn't help but mirror slightly.

"Of course that wouldn't happen," Dumbledore assured them. "It's completely up to you who knows about…whatever it is. Mrs Malfoy, could you explain?"

Narcissa nodded, taking one of Draco's hands in hers. "I'm not sure if you're familiar with a certain Black family trait, headmaster? One that only affects the men in our family?"

"No, I'm afraid not. Is it something that Draco needs a healer for? Would you like me to fetch Poppy?"

"No, no," she shook her head. "You see…a few generations ago…one of the men in our family upset a woman, a veela, and she cursed him and our family and so…every son born of Black blood is…a veela," she said slowly.

The silence in the room spoke for the seriousness of the situation, the understanding that the two men both came to. It was Severus who asked the question.

"So Draco is…a veela?"

"Yes," she and Draco answered together.

"And we are to assume that Miss Granger is Draco's mate?" Dumbledore pitched in.

"Yes," they answered together again.

The four of them were silent for a long time as the two professors absorbed the information and what it would mean for the future of both Draco and Hermione.  
Severus took the seat beside Draco as he had done the day before, and looked solemnly at his godson. "There are potions that can help you deal with your…Veela side...there is nothing to do to get rid of the connection-"

"No!" Draco cried, distressed by the thought that anyone would try to take his mate from him. Even if she wasn't his, the idea that someone would try to sever their bond appalled him.

Narcissa placed a calming hand on his arm. "None of us are going to keep her from you," she said, cutting a scathing look towards the Potions master for causing his distress. "I'm sure that isn't what Severus meant," she added pointedly.

"Of course not," Severus supplied. "I merely meant that there are potions that can dampen the senses, it is my understanding that Veela's have heightened senses-"

"I have already been taking them," Draco cut in. "Just anti-nausea medication from the hospital wing, but that only lasts until the end of classes. I can normally go and get a shower after classes and then stay away in my dormitory until dinner, but I had to come here today and-"

"And you just had Divination, which explains why you smell like you just stumbled out of Woodstock," Severus said dryly and ignored the confused faces of the witch and wizards around him as he waved his wand at Draco and the heavy scent of incense left the room, leaving the boy to breathe deeply in relief.

The headmaster looked at the three Slytherins over his cooling cup of tea while he thought the situation through. "It is my understanding that veela's must have physical contact with their mates to...initiate their bond or begin their call. We will need to keep you away from Miss Granger for the time being, until we find a way to-"

"They've already touched..." Severus breathed, looking from Draco's grimace to Narcissa's surprised face.

"What do you mean? Draco? What does he mean? Severus, tell me!"

"I didn't see it myself, but it was that night with Lupin and..." Severus shared a pointed look with the headmaster. "Draco landed himself in the Hospital Wing talking about how she had touched him."

"Your note said it was a concussion, you didn't mention him saying anything like that! And you, Draco! Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't exactly something I wanted to shout from the rooftops," he grumbled, sinking into his chair.

"Madame Pomphrey almost had to dose you with a sleeping draught to get you to shut up about it," Severus smirked.

"Look at that, the school nurse knows more about my sons love life than I do."

"Mum, it- it wasn't like that! She himmphmee..." he mumbled.

"What was that?"

"She hit me! Ok?"

"Oh, Draco dear, what did you do?"

Draco flopped back further in his seat, shooting a glare at his chuckling godfather. "So I've already started the bond, now what can we do?"

Albus held his steepled fingers up to his mouth again as he thought, looking more like a philosophical Santa Clause each time he did so, "I can floo Professor McGonagall and ask her to escort Miss Granger up here to speak to us-"

Draco leapt up from his seat again, getting tired of Dumbledore's ideas. "And then say what? 'Hi Hermione, I'm a veela and you're my mate. Sorry about my dad killing your parents, want to get married?' Are you insane?"

The room was quiet apart from Draco's heavy and hitched breaths for a minute or two until Narcissa spoke in a dark tone. "He did what?"

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Neglected](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5765047) by [Lost Cookie (Akalish)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akalish/pseuds/Lost%20Cookie)




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